


Taunton

by abundantlyqueer



Series: Indelible Universe [2]
Category: Two Two One Bravo Baker Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:37:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abundantlyqueer/pseuds/abundantlyqueer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>From the ‘Indelible’ universe. John and Sherlock meet pretty much as described in ‘Two Two One Bravo Baker’, but no one from John’s section is killed or even seriously injured except for John. This story takes place a little more than a year after John’s injury, and the completion of 40 Commando's combat tour and its return to home base.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Taunton

**Author's Note:**

> From the ‘Indelible’ universe. John and Sherlock meet pretty much as described in ‘Two Two One Bravo Baker’, but no one from John’s section is killed or even seriously injured except for John. This story takes place a little more than a year after John’s injury, and the completion of 40 Commando's combat tour and its return to home base.

_Taunton, Somerset_

McMath is standing on the front step, peering into the darkness beneath the yew hedge surrounding the small garden. The house door is open behind him, light spilling out from the hallway and outlining him in pale gold. He has his arms folded against the night air, though he’s indifferent enough to cold and common decency that he’s wearing only a skimpily fitting white singlet and a pair of perilously loose gray sweatpants. He has a bluish purple scar on his forehead, just above his right temple – a narrow streak that sweeps diagonally up into his hair.

There’s a rustle among the low branches followed by a sudden spray of small twigs and yew needles. A large, almost perfectly spherical cat – a brown and gray mackerel stripe with three white paws – explodes from under the hedge to streak across the scrap of lawn, through the door, and up the staircase inside. McMath steps into the house, closes the door and flips the latch shut before going upstairs too, quick and quiet on bare feet.

The stairs lead directly into a comfortable sitting room, with a broad couch and armchair dominating the floor area. On one side of the room there’s another narrower, steeper staircase to the next floor, and a closed door beneath it. On the other side of the sitting room there’s a breakfast bar delineating the cubbyhole-sized adjoining kitchen. Henn, dressed in slouchy, blue-striped pajama pants and a rather snugly fitting gray tee-shirt, is standing at the sink drinking water from a chunky earthenware mug while the cat sashays its considerable bulk around the perimeter of the small space.

McMath comes to stand behind Henn, chest to back, and slips his hands along the narrow strip of bare skin between the waist of Henn’s pajama bottoms and the hem of his tee shirt.

“Cold hands,” Henn says, shaking out his mug and setting it upside-down on the little wooden drainer.

“Warm heart,” McMath murmurs.

He bends his head, bringing his nose and mouth to where Henn’s hair – growing through a darker, dishwater blond without constant sunshine – feathers closely around his ear and the nape of his neck. McMath inhales deeply and his eyes slide closed. Henn lets his head fall forwards; McMath’s hands shape more firmly to the curves of his sides, and he brings his mouth to the thin line of pale skin that crosses the otherwise golden nape of Henn’s neck. Henn’s breath sounds very slightly in his throat. McMath lifts one hand from Henn’s waist, dips his fingers into the neckline of his tee shirt to slide his hand across the smooth, warm plane of Henn’s chest. Henn’s breath catches and breaks in a barely voiced pleasure noise. McMath lifts his face again and nuzzles into the back of Henn’s hair.

“Drill-call’s at oh six hundred,” McMath says. “We should go up.”

Henn twists around to face him, lifts his arms, and clasps his hands behind McMath’s neck. McMath puts his arms around Henn’s ribs, one hand grasping the opposing wrist at the curve of Henn’s spine. Henn’s pale blue eyes flick from the narrow curl of McMath’s mouth, to the scar on his forehead, and then to the short strands of hair above. Without the burnishing sun or the brutally short buzz he affected in Afghanistan, McMath’s hair looks copper brown rather than red-gold. His skin has entirely shed whatever tan it had, but there are still ghostly traces of freckling on his cheekbones and the tips of his shoulders.

Henn arches his back, pushing his hips forwards. The soft prominence of his genitals inside his pajama bottoms fits neatly below McMath’s groin, against the firm curve of his inner thigh. Henn’s fingers splay over the base of McMath’s skull and tighten as Henn starts to shift his hips slightly. McMath lifts his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth tuck in slightly. He tightens his arms around Henn and bends his head a little.

Henn’s eyes slide almost closed. He catches his lower lip in his teeth and bites softly as his hips start to move up and down more deliberately. He tips his head back, looking up at McMath from under half-closed eyelids. McMath unclasps his hands at Henn’s back, slides them down onto the curves of Henn’s behind, and grips both buttocks firmly. Henn’s eyes flare open again.

“Come on,” McMath says. “Let’s go up to bed.”

Henn nods. He leans back, letting his hands slip from McMath’s neck, down the taut cotton of his singlet stretched across his chest, to the soft sweat-shirting covering his crotch. He dips both hands between McMath’s thighs and then strokes deliberately out and up, along both sides of McMath’s groin to his hipbones. The front of McMath’s sweatpants is rather less shapeless than before; there’s a distinct bulge beginning to form beneath the folds. McMath takes hold of Henn’s wrists and lifts his hands away.

“Bedtime,” he says.

“Get the cat,” Henn says. “I’ll put the coffee things out.”

McMath tugs on Henn’s wrists, pulling him in again, and dips his face so that his lips are only an inch or two from Henn’s. McMath hisses his breath in, exhales again with a soft, throaty sound of anticipation, and lets Henn go.

“All right, Big Bastard, let’s go,” McMath says.

He scoops the cat up, tucks it under his arm, pads across the sitting room and up the steep, narrow stairs. The space at the top isn’t strictly speaking a room – it was one end of the servants’ hallway before the house was divided vertically into several rather eccentric flats. It’s directly beneath the roof and has a steeply pitched ceiling; there are a couple of built-in closets on one side, but otherwise the space is completely occupied by a queen-size bed. McMath spills the cat over his forearm onto the faded patchwork cover, clicks on the small wall-light, and turns off the overhead-light. The cat wades into the pile of pillows and begins to tread diligently, now and again lifting its paws high to unstick its claws from the soft cotton covers.

From downstairs there’s the slight chink of ceramic against tile, and then metal against ceramic, followed by a brief burst of running water and the thunk of a cabinet closing. McMath strips his singlet off and tucks it into the cloth laundry bag hanging on the outside of one closet-door. He skims his sweatpants down off his hipbones; the cloth falls down his legs under its own weight. He steps out of the garment, leaving it where it lies, and gets onto the bed. He stretches out on his right side, his head propped on one hand while the other strokes over the cat’s head, down its broad back, and up along the length of its tail.

The downstairs light is turned off, leaving only the dim glow of the wall-light in the bedroom. McMath’s hand moves from the tip of the cat’s tail down to his own lap. He scoops his fingers around the heavy, half-firm shaft of his cock and tugs slightly.

Henn bounds up the stairs and throws himself onto the bed behind McMath, chest to back.

“Oh, hello,” Henn growls, slipping his lowermost arm through the angle of McMath’s bent elbow and dipping his nose into the warm, smooth skin behind his ear.

He skims his free hand from the solid curve of McMath’s deltoid down the hard ridge of his triceps, his palm riding the slight shifts of the muscle as McMath pulls lazily on his own cock.

“Fuck, I want this,” Henn murmurs, reaching down the roped muscles of McMath’s forearm and insinuating his fingers between McMath’s.

“You want my dick?” McMath says in breathy amusement, though his cock is hardening from second to second in their intertwined grip.

“ _Fuck_ yes,” Henn says, nuzzling around the rim of McMath’s ear, down the side of his neck, and out along the crest of his shoulder to where the tattooed feathers of his left wing curl forwards onto the outer slope of his collarbone. “I want you to put it in my arse and fucking _plow_ me and then I want you to empty your balls into me.”

“Jesus, Tom, you’re dirty,” McMath groans softly, easing from his elbow down onto his shoulder and turning his face into the pillow.

“You fucking love it,” Henn says as he slithers lower to mouth a kiss against the ornately patterned skin of McMath’s shoulder blade.

“Yeah,” McMath says, his voice low but raw-edged with arousal.

Henn gives McMath’s cock a parting squeeze – it’s unyieldingly hard now – and sleeks his hand slowly down McMath’s side. Henn wriggles even lower, smearing kisses down the line of McMath’s spine to where his tattoo gives way to the unadorned skin of his left buttock. Henn bites softly into the back of McMath’s hip, while his hand curves forwards around the bone and draws McMath over and onto his back.

McMath’s body lengthens, tenses, and then relaxes again. He stares down at Henn, eyes charcoal dark in the dim light, mouth flushed and falling slightly open. His cock is rigid and quivers visibly with each beat of his pulse.

“Oh fuck, I fucking love this thing,” Henn growls, dragging his fingertips from the head down the long arc of the shaft.

McMath’s eyes flutter half-shut and he catches his lower lip between his teeth. Henn wraps his fingers lightly around McMath’s shaft and ghosts his grip up and down the velvety skin. McMath’s body arches slowly and then melts back against the mattress. He brings one hand up, his long slender fingers splaying over the curve of Henn’s skull. Henn rubs the pad of his thumb softly up and down the wisp of skin at McMath’s frenulum. Henn’s eyelids droop and his mouth twists into a soft, sensual snarl. McMath’s breath shudders in, his chest flaring unsteadily.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispers, and then a little more clearly, “lie down, baby boy.”

Henn pulls back slowly, shifts across him, and sinks down on his stomach on the bed. The cat hoists itself out of the pillow, tromps to the far edge of the bed and unravels itself onto its side there. McMath rolls towards Henn, drawing one knee up along the backs of his legs. Henn murmurs a small sound into the pillow and spreads his legs slightly. McMath unfolds up onto his knees, straddling and settling his weight on the backs of Henn’s thighs. He spreads his hands over the curves of Henn’s buttocks and squeezes firm flesh through worn-thin cotton.

Henn grips two fistfuls of pillow. The muscles of his shoulders and back ripple under his tee shirt as McMath pushes the globes of his buttocks together and then pulls them apart a little. McMath curves his thumbs into the crevice between Henn’s thighs, digging in and then dragging out and upwards over his buttocks. Henn’s breathing turns quick and chaotic. McMath shifts farther down Henn’s legs, bends over, and pushes his face between the backs of Henn’s thighs. Henn’s breath sounds sharply. He pushes up onto his elbows, and his hips start to roll restlessly. McMath exhales heavily, and Henn writhes as heat and humidity surge through the thin cotton of his pajama pants. He plunges a hand under the pillows, palms across the sheet beneath, and pulls out a plastic tube of lubricant. He swings it back, rapping it sharply on McMath’s shoulder.

“What – oh,” McMath says, lifting his flushed face from between Henn’s buttocks.

He plucks the tube from Henn’s fingers and drops it next to him. He kneels up again, hooks his fingers into the waist of Henn’s pajama pants, and draws them down off his behind. Henn pushes up, unpinning the front of his pajama pants from under his pelvis; McMath wipes the thin cloth down Henn’s thighs and Henn eases down onto his stomach again, murmuring his pleasure as his naked cock is pressed between his belly and the bed.

McMath picks up the lubricant, flips the cap, and squeezes a generous blob of gel out onto his first two fingertips. He uses the opposite thumb to part Henn’s buttocks, exposing the pale skin of his cleft and the rose-brown ring of his anus. Henn blows his breath out noisily and grips the two sides of his pillow. McMath wipes the lubricant from his fingers onto Henn’s anus and then dips his two fingertips into the ring of muscle. Henn’s body yields generously, melting open around the touch. Henn’s spine flexes and his right knee slides a little higher on the bed beneath him.

McMath takes two fistfuls at the back of Henn’s tee shirt and pushes it up, off the flare of muscle that runs from Henn’s waist up and out to the back of his shoulders. Henn’s skin is still a deep, even gold; McMath slips his hands under the rucked folds of tee shirt across his shoulder blades and draws his hands slowly downwards, his thumbs scoring down each side of Henn’s spine. Henn gives a quiet, breathy whine of want.

McMath’s breath punches out. He slides off Henn’s back, his arm slipping around Henn’s waist to pull him from his stomach to his side. Henn squirms impatiently as McMath presses close behind him, sliding his lowermost arm under Henn’s neck and wrapping it across his chest. Henn reaches down, spreads his hand over the curve of his own buttock and lifts it. He turns his head, gazing at McMath from the corners of his eyes.

“Put it inside me,” he murmurs. “Put it – fuck - ”

McMath breathes kisses against the pulsing hollow of Henn’s temple and the sharp angle of his cheekbone, while he takes hold of his cock and nudges it between Henn’s buttocks. Henn thrusts back, and catches his breath when the soft fleshy round of McMath’s glans slips into him, followed by the harder, more implacable pressure of the shaft behind it. McMath rolls his hips back fractionally and then pushes forwards. Henn’s body shudders in relief. McMath pulls back slightly again, and pushes forwards to new depths.

“Okay?” he whispers at Henn’s ear.

Henn nods, his eyes fluttering half-shut. McMath moves his hand down from Henn’s waist to palm slow circles low on his belly as he starts to move his hips

At first Henn’s body slackens against McMath’s, the long shudder of his spine his only response to the gradually increasing speed and sharpness of McMath’s movements. McMath takes hold of Henn’s cock, his fingers wrapping around the shaft and his thumb caressing the leaking slit of his glans. Henn writhes, not attempting to match or counter McMath’s quick, sharp thrusts, but instead letting his pleasure move his body without purpose or pattern. McMath’s breath hitches out on the exertion of each thrust. He fans the fingers of his other hand across Henn’s mostly bared chest and plucks at one nipple. Henn cries out softly.

“Is that nice?” McMath murmurs against Henn’s ear.

“Fuck, you know it is,” Henn growls. “Just – oh fuck - ”

McMath’s hips stop abruptly and he takes his hand from Henn’s cock to push at the pajama pants wrapped across his thighs. Henn grimaces in protest for a second, but then realizes what McMath is trying to do. Henn bends his uppermost knee and draws his leg up and put of his pajama pants while McMath keeps bunching and shoving the fabric downwards. Henn flexes his naked leg up closer to his chest, wrapping his forearm around his knee to pin it in place. McMath’s cock has come partially out of him during the maneuver; McMath thrusts in again, and with Henn’s body stretched open like this he sinks much deeper inside.

“ – oh _fuck me_ ,” Henn groans.

McMath pumps into him with hard, rolling kicks of his hips. Henn’s breath is forced out in short grunts of pleasure. McMath fumbles under the tensed curve of Henn’s buttocks, then up and around his hipbone, trying to find a workable angle for his hand on Henn’s cock.

“I can’t - ” he mutters.

“I don’t care – just – oh fuck yes just keep going,” Henn says, his body jolting under the impact of McMath’s thrusts. “Just keep fucking me.”

McMath claps his hand around Henn’s knee to brace himself. His hips snap forwards and jerk back again. Henn turns his face into the pillow.

“Yes, oh fuck,” he moans. “Billy, yes, oh fuck yes - ”

McMath shoves his face against the side of Henn’s neck, panting against his skin. Henn trusts the flex of his knee to McMath’s grip, reaches back with his hand, and clasps the curve of McMath’s skull.

“ - yes, fuck me, oh Christ fuck me,” Henn urges.

“I’m getting close,” McMath rasps.

Henn makes a small sound of protest, but pushes back against him even more greedily. McMath exhales nasally and his thrusts turn slower and more considered. Henn makes a throat sound that’s as much gratitude as frustration.

“Not a chance,” McMath says, rubbing his cheek against Henn’s temple. “I’m taking you with me.”

He lets go of Henn’s knee and palms his thigh instead, guiding his leg down to lie canted slightly back over McMath’s uppermost leg. McMath starts to move again in smooth, short thrusts. Henn whimpers, caught between discontent with the shallower penetration, which is all that’s possible in this position, and utter ecstasy at the way the changed angle means the pressure of McMath’s cock plays forwards into his lower belly. McMath reaches over Henn’s hip and takes hold of his cock again. Henn jolts and then arches as McMath thumbs his slit, backwards and forwards in time to his thrusts.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Henn keens. “Oh fuck me.”

McMath’s thrusts turn rougher and jerkier. The bed’s lurching a little under the sharp shifting of their weight. Henn throws his lowermost arm out and braces himself with a fistful of bed cover; his knuckles brush the cat’s side. The cat spills itself off the far edge of the bed, lands on the floor with a solid thud and walks away, trembling with indignation.

“Oh fuck, I’m getting there,” Henn says, twisting his face against the pillow.

McMath snarls in satisfaction. He strums his thumb from side to side across Henn’s slit and churns his hips.

“You feel so fucking good,” he says hoarsely.

Henn grimaces, gapes an angry little sound as he struggles for control.

“Tell me,” he says. “Tell me.”

“Your _arse_ ,” McMath growls, “inside – Jesus, you’re soft and – oh Christ.”

Henn nods vigorously.

“Your cock is fucking beautiful,” McMath pants, “ _you’re_ fucking beautiful, baby boy.”

“Oh fuck, I’m there,” Henn groans.

He clutches at McMath’s thigh as his body spasms and shudders. His glans pulses in McMath’s hand, his semen welling from beneath McMath’s thumb. McMath turns his hand abruptly, swiping Henn’s semen down his shaft and then pumping his grip lightly up and down on the slicked skin. Henn shudders as his body wrings the last vestiges of tension from his muscles. McMath’s hand moves from his cock to his hip, thigh, shoulder as McMath scrabbles for purchase with his slippery fingers. McMath’s thrusting unravels to frantic rocking that works the top few inches of his cock in the ring of Henn’s anus. Henn twists his head around and manages to bring his mouth almost to McMath’s.

“Oh – fuck - _Tom_ ,” McMath grimaces. “I’m – _oh yeah_.”

Henn shoves back against him and McMath’s hips shudder to a halt and his entire body quivers.

“Oh God, I fucking love that,” Henn growls, as McMath clutches at him and grinds his forehead into the crest of Henn’s shoulder.

McMath’s breath sobs out through bared teeth and his body slackens. His eyes are closed as he lifts his head, pressing kisses haphazardly to Henn’s temple and cheekbone. His hand blunders over Henn’s skin, touching the other side of his face, his neck, his chest. Henn pulls away a bit, draws himself off McMath’s quickly softening cock, and flips onto his other side to face McMath. He kicks his pajama pants off the one leg they’re still on, but doesn’t address the tee shirt still rucked up around his armpits. He skims his fingers over the flushed skin of McMath’s cheek and chest, and brushes his mouth against McMath’s parted lips. McMath smiles and opens his eyes again. Their breathing begins to level out.

“I love you, baby boy,” McMath murmurs, trailing his thumb very lightly across Henn’s mouth.

“I love you, too,” Henn smiles, his eyes creasing almost closed.

McMath’s hand runs lightly down Henn’s side and settles on his hip; Henn shifts closer and tucks his face against McMath’s throat.

“Don’t get too comfortable there,” McMath murmurs. “I didn’t bring a towel up with me.”

Henn grumbles softly and winds his arm around McMath’s shoulders.

“And Big Bastard’s gone off in a huff,” McMath says. “He’s probably peeing in one of our boots right now.”

Henn hooks his uppermost leg over McMath’s thigh and tucks his heel between McMath’s calves. McMath reaches up and clicks off the wall-light, then drops his hand to idle his fingers in the short strands of Henn’s hair. He turns his head to a more comfortable angle on the pillow and closes his eyes.


End file.
